


You'd have to treat me pretty fucking well, Doc.

by mariamegale



Series: Call me 'sweetheart', please? [5]
Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Aftercare, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Play, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Idiots in Love, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:41:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24028327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariamegale/pseuds/mariamegale
Summary: Really, it’s unfair.They’re on the sofa watching a movie, Gene lying on Babe’s chest in a blanket nest just comfortable enough where he could fall asleep if he wanted to, but not so comfortable he will even if he won’t.Add in the fact that Eugene has been pressing soft little kisses to Babe’s neck for the last fifteen minutes, one hand slowly rubbing between his thighs, and he’s got no defence in place when the question comes.“Babe,” Eugene asks in a curious tone, and he really should expect something then. But he just hums in response instead, eyes open but not really watching the tv anymore. “How long is your refractory period?”Oh for crying out loud.“Calm down with the dirty talk, Doc,” Babe groans, closing his eyes, “you’ll end up killing a guy.”
Relationships: Babe Heffron/Eugene Roe
Series: Call me 'sweetheart', please? [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1722178
Comments: 13
Kudos: 44





	You'd have to treat me pretty fucking well, Doc.

**Author's Note:**

> You know the drill. I love your prompts. See ya in the end notes, where the content warnings are. <3

Eugene first finds out by accident.

As is the start of most good stories from Babe’s life lately, he’s got his head between Gene’s thighs, taking his time with a laziness only the newly-fucked can muster. Eugene slowly shakes apart under him and it’s a very nice moment, Babe enjoying every second of it before dragging himself up to press a long kiss to Gene’s lips and then doze off in the crook of his neck.

Or so is the plan, but he only gets a few moments of sloppy kissing in before Eugene pulls back with a soft frown. One of his hands goes to Babe’s hips, obviously trying not to move to where his hard dick is pressed into Gene’s thigh. 

“Babe,” Eugene says. It’d almost be funny, how confused he sounds, if Babe wasn’t busy blushing all the way up his scalp because oh shit, he’s done it now. “I thought you—“

“I did,” Babe responds, pulling Gene’s hand up and pressing a kiss behind his jaw. “I can—That— It just happens sometimes. Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay,” Eugene says, but Babe can tell it’s not the end of that.

They had such a good run, too, he laments, mentally preparing for what the future now holds in store for him and his sorry ass.

———

It’s a week before Eugene brings it up, and he does it when he’s got Babe cornered, the bastard.

They’re on the sofa watching a movie, Gene lying on Babe’s chest in a blanket nest just comfortable enough where he could fall asleep if he wanted to, but not so comfortable that he will even if he won’t.

Add in the fact that Eugene has been pressing soft little kisses to Babe’s neck for the last fifteen minutes, one hand slowly rubbing between his thighs, and he’s got no defence in place when the question comes. 

“Babe,” Eugene asks in a curious tone, and he really should expect something then. But he just hums in response instead, eyes open but not really watching the tv anymore. “How long is your refractory period?”

_Oh for crying out loud_. “Calm down with the dirty talk, Doc,” Babe groans, closing his eyes, “you’ll end up killing a guy.”

Eugene just snorts, but doesn’t do more to apologise than move his hand up to the bulge in Babe’s trousers. Babe sighs and commits himself to his fate, which really isn’t too difficult when that fate includes the feeling of Gene’s hips languidly rolling against his own. 

“It depends,” Babe says, running a hand up under Eugene’s shirt. He’s not really looking to undress either of them, pretty happy to just stay rutting lazily against each other, but he doesn’t ever not want to feel Gene’s skin under his hands.

“Depends?” Eugene echoes, working Babe’s pants open as well as he can with one hand. It should be awkward, but it really isn’t. That’s one of the things he continues being surprised by, how easy things are with Gene, and also the biggest reason he’s even entertaining the current conversation.

“Yeah, on the, uh… Circumstances, you know?” A hand is wrapped around his dick and he cusses quietly, feeling Eugene hum happily against his collarbone. “Maybe, uh. Fuck, a couple of minutes? Less than that, if the mood is right, I don’t know?”

“You ever experimented with it, Heffron?” Eugene is kissing a trail over what areas of Babe’s chest he can reach, one leg hitched up where Babe is pulling them closer together with a hand on Gene’s ass. He laughs.

“I went through high school as a closeted Catholic kid, Gene, what do you think?”

It’s one of those jokes he sometimes makes that cuts just a little too close for Eugene’s liking, and he knows that, but there’s a part of him that can’t help but find a great amount of pleasure in the way Gene stops what he’s doing to pull Babe into a kiss. 

It’s annoyed, but not in a “you should stop saying shit like that” way. More in a “you should have never been given a reason to be saying shit like that” way, which every now and then is something he likes to be reminded of. It’s very different from the mindset Babe knew for so much of his life, and to have it stated like it is and should have always been an axiom is. It’s nice. 

But he also doesn’t want the whole thing to become about comforting the sad fifteen-year-old he once was, and his dick definitely doesn’t want that, so he takes the opportunity to pull Eugene more securely on top of him. 

It gives him a better angle to grind their hips together, Babe gladly making a place for himself under Eugene’s spread thighs. Gene groans, arching his back under Babe’s hands, and it’s wonderful. For a few minutes they just do that, hips finding a rhythm, both of them savouring the small moans they pull out of each other. 

Then Eugene scoots back a little, pressing kisses to Babe’s chest like a question, starting to move down once it’s answered by a " _Fuck, yes, Gene, yeah_ ," and a hand in his hair. Babe will never get tired of the picture of it, Gene moving down his body with that determined set in his shoulders.

“Would you want to?” he asks, and Babe has to scowl for a second, because what, before Eugene looks up at him with raised eyebrows and he remembers their conversation. 

“Oh, right, uh, well— fuck!” He chokes off when Eugene unceremoniously presses wet lips over and around the head of his dick, and Babe stops thinking. “If you want to, sure, but I don’t know if we— Fuck, Eugene—“

Gene pulls off with a sound Babe knows is entirely manufactured for his own pleasure, which sends a thing of heat down his spine. “I love when you do that,” Gene says through a smile, and Babe has no idea what he’s talking about, is given no time to ask before Eugene moves on. “How many times do you think you could come, if I treat you right?”

Babe is going to fucking die. Eugene is jerking him slowly, and there’s a gleam in his eyes that Babe recognises as holding nothing but trouble for the both of them, and he should stop this insanity.

“You’d have to treat me pretty fucking well, Gene,” he warns, the hand on the back of Eugene’s head twitching because he’d really, really like that mouth back on him.

“Two times?” Eugene asks, turning his head to press a kiss to Babe’s wrist, twisting his hand in a way that’s just unfair when they’re having these kinds of conversations. “Three? Four?” Babe’s wrist is kissed again, and then Gene leans over to drag his tongue around the head of Babe's cock like the massive tease he is. “Five?”

“Jesus Christ, Gene,” Babe moans out. He doesn’t know what else to do and this whole topic is making something ache inside of him, because he knows Eugene is one hundred percent certain he can accomplish that when he says it. Babe can’t decide if he wants to believe him or not. “Fuck off or get your mouth on me—“

“You’re always so greedy,” Eugene chides, not sounding bothered in the least. And of course he wouldn’t, because Babe’s rutting his hips like his life depends on it, not making for a very convincing argument.

He can’t help but laugh. “Oh, that’s rich. ‘Stop being greedy’, he says. ‘I’m gonna make you come five times’, he says, ‘but you’re the one with hubris.’“ 

Gene apparently gets the hint at that point, because he just snorts and then finally gets his lips back around Babe. The conversation derails from there, both of them happy to let it. 

———

Thirty minutes and a lesson in not having sex on the couch without preparing clean-up beforehand learned later, Babe is happily zoning out to the sound of the TV and the feeling of Gene gently rubbing his head against Babe’s neck. 

His fingers are ghosting up and down the curve of Eugene’s spine, content to just enjoy what’s left of their afterglow. The warm weight of Gene pressed against him, the way they're breathing just a little out of sync — Gene slow and deep, Babe slightly faster — and how clearly he can feel every movement of Eugene’s body whenever he shifts to get more comfortable. 

It’s another couple of minutes before he’s drawn out of his lull, feeling the rumble of Gene’s voice against his chest before he actually hears him speak. 

“Would you like to try it sometime, Edward?” It’s neutral in that way that Eugene does things when he’s not entirely sure of himself, or of someone else, and Babe takes a few moments to think before he answers. 

Okay look, going through life a very obvious and eagerly willing… whatever it is that people always pick up on in him — Babe is too self-conscious to really be willing to analyse himself that much — he’s had some experiences with guys. Guys who like to boss others around, be in control, take charge under certain circumstances.

Guys who have slightly inflated egos. 

Babe hasn't often minded indulging the dominant streaks of others — he really, really hasn’t — but there are some things that just haven’t worked out that well, in the past. Like people being a bit too over-confident in their abilities, so to speak. Like people not thinking certain things through beyond “Fuck, that’d be hot as fuck” and then becoming frustrated when it turns out reality didn’t want to play along with that.

He’s lucky in that he hasn’t had too many actually bad experiences (if you can call it luck, rather than another thing that should be a given, but this isn’t the time to dive down that rabbit hole) but the amount of times Babe has found himself awkwardly having to comfort someone who is sulking like he insulted them because they didn’t care to do their research even after he had told them to, well.

Any number of those experiences is too many.

Babe doesn’t have a problem with the idea Eugene is proposing. The idea is hot as shit, if he lets himself imagine a situation where he’s with someone who can actually get him feeling relaxed enough to make it happen, but he’s grown wary of the look people get when they think about it.

He refuses to feel bad about it. A finger drags softly over Babe’s creased brow and he’s pulled out of his thoughts.

“Edward. If you don’t want to, that’s fine. Say the word and I’ll drop it.”

But at the same time, this is Eugene, and Babe already trusts him enough to throw himself off a cliff if Gene said he’d survive it, so he thinks _fuck it_ and just shrugs. 

“It’s not that. I’m up to try anything, with you.” Eugene is looking up at him, his chin on Babe’s collarbone, but he can’t really return his gaze. “But just, don’t make a big deal out of it, okay? Just because I can— hypothetically, doesn’t mean it… Fuck, look, it’s not that I don’t believe in your abilities, I hope you know that, but just don’t be annoyed? Or disappointed, if I can’t do it? Or if you can’t, I don’t know who—“

Babe stops talking, because he’s about to start rambling and this already feels awkward enough. He can feel Eugene start to shuffle around, sitting up on Babe’s hips and taking his face between his hands. Babe didn’t expect that, and when he opens his eyes he also isn’t expecting to see Gene frown before he kisses him. 

Not that he is going to complain, so he lets Eugene press kisses to his lips, his cheeks, the tip of his surely-pink nose, with a growing sense of confusion. Nonetheless, the small thing of weariness in his chest is starting to unclench under the attention, so he lets his hands settle on Eugene’s hips and goes along with it.

“I would never,” Gene eventually says, softly pressing their lips together between words. “Never be disappointed in you, _chérie_. I don’t care what we’re doing, or what you’re doing, I would never be angry with you, you hear me? There is nothing—“

Babe tries to open his mouth to speak, but Eugene puts a thumb over his mouth, using his hand to tilt Babe’s head enough to press a few kisses to the line of his jaw. 

“—nothing that could ever make me feel like you did something wrong. Even if something happens, it’s not your fault, and I won’t think it is. You… You’re important, _minou_ , so important, and you’re always perfect. Always.”

It’s a bit much for Babe to deal with, and his cheeks are burning, so he carefully lifts Eugene’s hand off his face, stroking a finger over the line of Gene’s knuckles. “Gene, I’m not— I’m not, it’s not… I ain’t out of it, you don’t have to do that. Say that.”

Eugene pauses, pulling back to look at Babe with the same carefully blank look as earlier, brow furrowed and something very tender in his eyes. “I know,” he says quietly, looking at Babe’s lips instead of his eyes. “I want to, anyway. Is that okay?”

Babe can’t find any words that feel like they suit the situation. “Yeah,” is all he eventually gets out.

Eugene nods with a deep breath and leans back in to nuzzle the sides of their heads together. Babe wraps his arm around him, pulling them closer together, screwing his eyes shut against all of it. Despite what he said, it seems that Gene is out of words, too, and they end up just kind of gently clinging to each other for a while.

It’s the most strangely exhilarating snuggle of Babe’s life. He loves every second of it.

———

Eugene has spent the morning being more hands-on than Babe has ever seen him. If he didn’t know him better, he’d say Gene was nervous — but Babe does know him better, and he recognises the look in the other man’s eyes as hesitant excitement. 

They’d talked about it the night before, and Babe is not going to revisit that conversation if you paid him a million dollars. He loves doing more elaborate stuff, he really does, but he hates the talks beforehand. 

Babe is not a calm enough person to be able to adequately deal with a straight-faced Eugene sitting down in front of him at the kitchen table, casually laying out just how he’s thinking he’s going to fuck Babe’s goddamned brains out in sixteen hours.

Eugene hasn’t showed much of a sadistic side in the time they’ve known each other, but Babe isn’t entirely sure there isn’t one in there, because that is a cruel thing to do to someone.

Leaving that moment behind him, Babe takes a deep breath and leans back against Eugene. They’re in his bed, finishing an episode of Breaking Bad (when news broke to their friend group that neither member of the Roe-Heffron household had seen the show, they’d been told in no uncertain terms to go home and not emerge until they's finished it. He’d exchanged a look and a smile with Eugene and thought _sure, we can work with that_.)

He’s between Eugene’s legs, propped up with his back to Eugene’s front, head leaning on his shoulder. One of Gene’s hands is carding through his hair and he’s been using the other to draw small shapes on Babe’s chest for the past fifteen minutes, fingers stroking over his skin outside of his soft shirt. The duvet is pulled up to just above their hips, creating just enough warmth without being overwhelming.

The whole thing is more relaxing than arousing, but there’s an edge to the air Babe can’t ignore. He can feel it in the warm trail left behind Eugene’s fingers, in the too-casual kisses pressed into his hair, the way Gene will sometimes scratch his scalp gently.

It’s like they’re in a standoff neither of them are acknowledging. Babe retaliates with a hand on the outside of Eugene’s thigh, just the weight of it, slowly dragging his thumb back and forth over the fabric of Gene’s sweatpants. 

It’s a challenge accepted, because the hand on Babe’s chest goes from fingertip touches to lying flat against his skin, moving just low enough to make warmth start to spread in his stomach before stopping and going back up again. 

Babe breathes slowly, not really paying much attention to whatever is ruining Jesse Pinkman’s life this time, instead paying a lot of attention to where Eugene obstinately isn’t moving his hips at all. Not that he was kicking around earlier, exactly, but there’s a tension in the stillness of his legs that almost has Babe smiling smugly.

He sighs, bracing his feet against the mattress to be able to scoot up a little, enough that his temple is on level with Gene’s cheekbone instead of his neck. It’s an innocent enough movement, as is Eugene taking the chance to move his other hand down so they’re both splayed out on Babe’s front, but the unnecessary rolling of his hips against Eugene’s definitely isn’t.

From the way he can practically hear Gene’s jaw work, he knows it too. Babe pretends not to notice, squirming around until he’s comfortable. He pulls one of his feet up, bending his knee and gently leaning the weight of his leg out against Eugene's, reaching one hand back to stroke the back of Eugene’s neck.

He’s not oblivious to the way Gene reacts to Babe opening himself up — in any sense of the word — so he just closes his eyes, presses his head into the side of Eugene’s, and waits. Whether he picks up on the baiting of it or not, it doesn’t take long for Gene to take it.

Eugene gently tightens the hold he has on Babe’s chest with one arm, his other hand moving down to the hem of Babe’s shirt so he can tug it up and drag his fingers along the bare skin of his stomach. Gene’s fingertips are only faintly touching him as they trace the space above the lining of Babe’s underwear, and he’s suddenly both mad and grateful he didn’t bother putting on pants today.

The duvet is still pulled over his legs, but there’s a part of him that still feels oddly… Exposed, despite it. Babe feels himself blush. He closes his eyes and hides his face against Eugene’s jaw, but of course Gene won’t let him get away that easily.

The hand that isn’t sneaking its way into Babe’s pants comes up to his throat, cupping the underside of his jaw gently but firmly, turning his head back out. “Nuh-uh,” Eugene says, pressing a kiss just above Babe’s ear, murmuring into his skin. “You keep your eyes open.”

Then Gene’s hand is on him, and Babe is pretty sure he’s never gotten hard so fast in his life. He’s stuck, caught between Eugene’s hands and his body and his mouth where he nips at Babe’s ear. It’s cutting it just close enough to being downright rough, in the softest way possible, and Babe feels himself give in immediately. 

The hand he hasn’t got on the back of Gene’s neck, where it’s probably holding on a little to firmly, travels up Eugene’s forearm to the hand on his throat. He lets it stay there, just resting his own hand on Gene’s. He could try to move it, but he doesn’t, and the signal of permission translates loud and clear to both of them.

He wonders if Eugene is aware of the happy little sound he makes, because Babe will never forget it. Babe’s being overrun with sensation, which does not bode well for the rest of this whole endeavour. His eyes are fixed on where Eugene’s hand disappears under the blankets, slowly stroking him with a loose grip, and how he can’t seem to stop rolling his hips in time with it.

Or, as well as he can move his body without straining against the hand holding his head in place, not nearly tight enough to affect his breathing but tight enough to remind it of him every time he takes a breath. Gene is pressing small kisses to the space just above his ear and it should be disgusting, the sound of his lips and his breathing, but all it actually does is send shivers down Babe’s spine.

Under him, behind him, he can feel Eugene’s slow, deep breathing, his own erection pressing just above Babe’s ass. It’s a lot, all tied together by the fact that he knows it’s only the beginning.

He realises he’s moaning only when it cuts off into a small hiss when the stroke of Gene's hand against his dick gets just a little too dry to be comfortable. He doesn’t let himself think about the amount of precome he may or may not— Whatever, but it seems Eugene can read his mind because he drags his hands out of Babe’s underwear and up to his face.

“Lick it,” he says, voice lower than usual and strained in a way Babe knows has got nothing to do with physical exertion. Maybe he needs to take a break at some point and evaluate the scale of his own icky-factor, or maybe not, because the way Eugene swallows when Babe sticks his tongue out to lick a few wet stripes across his palm is sending him places.

When that hand goes back around his dick, wet and tight and with a newfound determination to the way Gene twists his wrist, he goes somewhere else entirely. Babe strains to look up at Eugene, his lips still parted and eyes wide, and the look he gets in return is so dark he really, really wishes he was allowed to close his eyes because this is way too much. 

Some of it must read on his face, because Eugene makes a soothing, shushing noise and kisses the front of his temple, just under his eye, which Babe takes as permission to close his eyes with a groan. 

“It’s okay, _minou_ ,” Gene mumbles against his forehead, and Babe tries to believe him. “This is just the first one, I know you can do that.” 

_Jesus Christ_ , right, that’s what they’re fucking doing. Babe makes a noise he hopes sounds disagreeing, because it’s very prolonged and loud, but it only makes Eugene laugh quietly. 

“Yes, you can,” he says, dragging his thumb over the head of Babe’s dick, “I know you do, _mon cher_ , unless you want to stop already? That it? You want me to stop, _chaton_?”

He doesn’t even bother shaking his head at that, forget speaking, and instead makes a point to grind his hips more down than up. That gets a reaction, and Babe takes a great deal of pleasure from the bit-off curse he surprises out of Eugene.

Of course, he gets his payback. Eugene apparently decides he’s very impatient all of a sudden, because he picks up his pace and pushes his lips to the shell of Babe’s ear.

“You can, _chérie_ , and you will,” he says, far too tenderly for the actual filth coming out of his mouth, “because I’m telling you to, and you’re always good for me, aren’t you? You’re so good, sweetheart, so sweet and good, _mon petit chaton_ , and I’m going to be very, very good to you in return.”

Maybe it’s not that filthy, actually, but it might as well be for the way Babe feels his mind start to short-circuit. The hand he has on the back of Eugene’s neck goes up to grip a hold on his hair, which Gene should get cut if it’s long enough to grip, Babe can never get a good hold on it usually, _who cares he’s dying from sex_ , and bites his own lip as he feels himself start to frazzle around the edges.

One really positive aspect of this... Plan, is that Babe has absolutely no reason to try to extend his own endurance and thus feels no shame in coming after what can’t be more than ten minutes. Not that he would have cared much anyway, if he’s being real. Eugene would probably just look at him like he won the fucking lottery, telling him what a good, sweet boy he just was, and that image sends him over the edge.

He tenses up and groans through it, being allowed to hide his face against Eugene’s jaw this time. It’s not until his hips stop twitching that Gene moves his hand from Babe's throat, making him shiver at the feeling of suddenly cool air against his skin. 

Babe is being kissed softly, deeply, and he sighs happily into it and the fingers now carding through his hair. Gene strokes him through the aftershocks until he makes an uncomfortable grunt when it turns from pleasurable to just below painful. 

He isn’t entirely sure what to expect next, his earlier wish of forgetting the conversation from the night before apparently fulfilled by the kink fairy, but nothing really changes for a little while. Eugene shifts them to a better angle to lazily make out, sliding out from under Babe to instead lie down beside him, but that’s about it.

Not that he’s complaining. No, Babe is very happy just laying down feeling soft and satisfied, with a beautiful man kissing him intently and without hurry, only pausing to pull first his own and then Babe’s shirt off.

After a while, Eugene stops kissing Babe’s mouth and starts kissing his neck, which draws a groan out of him. Gene smiles and nudges his shoulder.

“Come on, sweetie, roll over,” he says, getting Babe to oblige with soft encouragement and a row of kisses pressed over his shoulder blades. “You ready, _chérie_?”

Babe only moans and bundles up a couple of pillows under his chest, giving him something to press his face into. Eugene smiles into his neck before kissing a line down Babe’s spine. 

His underwear is removed, and he’s too relieved about it to feel uncomfortable. Gene lies back down next to him, nudging him with one hand to look over. Babe is mostly relaxed, but there is a knot of expectation in the base of his stomach. It tightens when he meets Eugene’s eyes, sees the cool excitement there.

“Hey,” he says, and Babe smiles up at him. Eugene smiles back and leans forward to kiss his forehead. “How are you feeling, _minou_? You think you ready?” The back of a hand goes down Babe’s spine, and he recognises the soft glide of lube that’s slipped down from the tips of Gene’s fingers.

He takes a shivering breath and closes his eyes when Eugene reaches the curve of his bum, slowly dragging his wet fingers between the cleft of his ass. Babe arches his back on automatic, and Eugene takes that as permission to start pressing a finger into him.

“You ready?” Gene asks again like he isn’t already two knuckles deep, kissing the side of Babe’s head.

He works Babe open with a patience that would normally make Babe whiny, but right now is outright frustrating. He knows he should appreciate the care Eugene is taking, but also that it’s just gratuitous to get three fingers in someone’s ass before even going searching for his sweet spot.

Combine it with the steady stream of encouragement and sweet-talk being whispered into his ear and Babe is so deep under he might as well be made of cotton candy when he finally feels Gene start to rub against his prostate.

“I thought you’d like that,” Eugene says when Babe moans loud enough to feel his toes curl, sounding so cock-sure of himself Babe really should make him pay for it. But Gene continues moving his hand just right, crooking his fingers just how Babe wants him to, and his vengeful thoughts get kind of jumbled. 

Eugene rolls him back over with a tight grip on Babe's hips, which gives Babe a better angle to arch his back onto Gene's fingers but also removes his ability to smother his noises into the pillows.

Not that he really cares when Gene starts kissing his way down Babe’s stomach to his very hard dick, licking a careful stripe up the length of it before wrapping his free hand around him.

Babe hisses out a curse, hips twitching at the feeling, because fuck, he’s not quite prepared for just how sensitive he’d still be. Eugene stills his movements, earning a displeased noise from Babe.

“This okay, _doudou_?” Gene asks, continuing when Babe groans at him. “Come on, _minou_ , you have to use your words.”

_Fuck, words. Okay._ “Okay,” Babe says, or whimpers, whatever. _Fuck words._ “Yes, okay, yes, Gene. Please, you can, just. Careful, okay? Fuck, Gene please—“

Cutting off what would surely have been a spectacular string of nonsense, Eugene wraps his lips on Babe’s dick and goes down on him while pressing his fingers up in a movement so fluid it stuns Babe into silence for a second. Then he has to press a hand over his own mouth for something close to stability, whining against his shaking fingers. 

Eugene is being careful, tongue impossibly soft against the delicate skin of his dick, but the hand in his ass isn’t showing the same mercy. Between the velvet of his mouth and the hard press of his fingers in him, Babe doesn’t need long to unfurl into a writhing mess underneath him.

It still takes some time to work back up to a place where the muscles in his stomach start to tug in that familiar way, but by the time they get there (read: by the time Eugene drags him there, twisting his hands and using the broad sweep of his tongue to tease the head of Babe’s dick halfway to insanity), Babe has trouble focusing on anything outside the man working fucking wonders between his legs. 

He tries to get a warning out, he really does, but all he can manage to say is more akin to the noise a dying whale may make than actual human words. Eugene picks up on it anyway, because of course he does, pulling his mouth off Babe's cock. Doesn’t stop his hands though, and Babe is straining to remember how to breathe while rutting his hips between the two hands currently keeping him attached to reality.

“You’re doing so well, _mon chaton,_ ” Gene praises him with a hoarse voice, and fuck, Babe’s so close he’s ready to beg for it. “I know, sweetie, _mon chou_ , I know. Do you want to come? Tell me, sweetheart, do you—“

“Yes, fuck, Gene—“ Eugene uses his mouth to laugh, rather than suck Babe off, because he’s a cruel man employing cruel tactics.

“Tell me how bad you want it, _chérie_.” 

“I, I want— Gene, Please,” Babe tries, tossing his head on the pillow. He’s almost there, and he can’t think, but Eugene just tuts at him. 

“You can beg better than that, _mon cher_ , come on.”

There are tears pressing behind Babe’s eyelids, and he has to take a few deep breaths to calm himself down enough to properly speak. “Please, Gene,” He eventually manages, voice airy, and his head is swimming. “I want to come so fucking bad, please, please let me. I’ll be so good, I promise I’ll be so fucking good, just let me— Please, I can’t—“

He cuts off on a sob, and the next minute Gene’s tongue is on him and he thinks he’s actually crying at the feeling of it. “You will, sweetheart, don’t worry.” Eugene says, switching between speaking and pulling his mouth over the head of Babe’s dick in quick, sucking motions, and Babe is biting down on his own fingers so hard it’ll hurt in the morning. “I’m going to make you, and then I’ll make you again, and then I’m going to fuck you until your eyes roll back into your pretty little head, okay?”

Just put 'cause of death: Eugene Roe, Doctor-in-training' on his fucking gravestone. Babe comes so hard he’d arch off the bed if Eugene’s head wasn’t in the way. 

Gene doesn’t relent, sucks him through it and covertly slips a fourth finger past the rim of Babe’s asshole, and Babe could scream. Does he scream? He’s not sure, but he’s pretty sure he’s making some kind of ungodly noise he might be punished for in some later life. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, that’s it,” Eugene says, sounding outright exhilarated, and Babe clings to it like a dying man, that and the fucking pleasure pounding his goddamned eyes out of his head. “ _Bordel de merde_ , you’re so fucking perfect, can you do it again? Come on, I know you can, _mon dieu et tous les anges—_ “

He’s not sure what’s actually going on around him at this point. It’s as if his breath got punched out of him and he’s finally managing to take a staggering breath after heaving without getting any oxygen down his lungs for a minute, painful but also such a relief. Babe wants to die, and he’s never felt better, and he really doesn’t remember what his name is or where he is or what goddamned century it is. 

When he returns to himself, he’s shivering and there are soft lips being pressed into his wet cheeks. 

Why are his cheeks wet? 

Oh right, he’s crying.

… why is he crying?

Oh, right.

Babe tries to wrap his arms around the person leaned over him, but he might have punched them in the face instead, he’s not sure. A pair of hands much stronger and steadier than his own help him out, guiding his arms around a thin neck, letting them drape down a tense, hot back. 

He presses into that warmth, suddenly aware that he’s freezing and that he really, really would like that warm body draped over him, pressing into him, filling him up, and fuck, why isn’t he doing that?

Babe makes a noise he thinks sounds distressed, earning him a whole new wave of kisses against his temple. 

“Shh, it’s okay, _chérie_ , my sweet little thing, I’ve got you—“

“Gene,” he forces out, trying to wrestle the other man on top of him, getting annoyed because _why is he not on top of him_? “Gene, please—“

“I’m here, _minou_ , it’s okay—“

“No,” he says, bothered because it’s not okay, he wants— fuck, he can’t think, so he whines instead, hoping Eugene can interpret that.

The arms he has around Eugene’s neck are being pulled down, his hands pressed into the mattress, and he relaxes into the pressure of it, the tether. Babe realises his eyes are closed, so he opens them. Blinking a few times to make the blur go away — tears, they’re called tears — he can eventually see Eugene’s face from where he’s looking down at him.

Gene moves to sit on Babe’s hips while Babe remembers how eyes work, and it’s a relief to have the pressure on him, finally. Though he’s not happy at all when he also feels a duvet between them, because why the fuck is there a duvet between them, it’s in the way.

Eugene kisses his pout away, and that’s another thing he can melt into. After a few presses of their mouths together, Gene leans back to push his forehead against Babe’s. He’s so beautiful, looking at Babe with dark, wide, kind eyes, smiling like he’s looking at something precious and it’s the most stunning thing Babe has ever seen in his life. 

“That’s very nice of you,” Eugene says, and Babe feels himself smile back at him. “Babe, what’s the matter? What do you want?”

That reminds him of how miserable he is, and why, and he moans. “Why aren’t you— You promised, Gene, please—“

Eugene looks at him with a small frown for a few seconds, and Babe doesn’t get why, but then he goes very still and leans back a little. “Babe, do you want me to fuck you?”

Yes, that was what it was, fuck. Babe moans, suddenly remembering what it was he wanted. Eugene said he’d fuck Babe, until his eyes rolled back into his head, and he wants that. He wants it so bad he’s aching with it, he’d be willing to do so much—

“—anything, Gene, fuck, I’ll be so good, I promise, please—“ 

Eugene looks like he’s about to have a stroke, and Babe just continues to babble, hoping Gene’ll decide he's been good enough. If he hasn’t, he’s willing to be, will do anything Gene asks him to, just please, please—

“ _Tu vas me faire mourir_ , Jesus Christ,” Eugene chokes out, kissing Babe so hard it’s barely even a kiss anymore, and the duvet is pushed off him (fuck yes, go fuck yourself, duvet asshole). “Okay, yeah, we’re doing that.”

Babe moans, manages to wrap his arms around Gene’s neck on his own this time, and it doesn’t take long before those strong, beautiful hands are pushing his knees up and out. There’s a kiss to his cheek and a blunt pressure against the rim of his ass, and then Babe holds his breath because Eugene is finally, finally, pushing into him with a deep, smooth thrust that has Babe relaxing with how fucking good it feels.

He lets the idea of words go again, happy to just make small noises as Eugene fucks him, slow rolls of his hips that presses him right up to Babe’s ass, and it’s wonderful. 

Babe wishes he was a cat, because if he was, he’d purr, and he must say this out loud because Eugene laughs and presses his face into Babe’s neck. 

“But you are, _minou_ ,” he says, leaning down on his elbows instead of on his hands, and Babe hums happily at how it brings their bodies together. “Fuck, kitten, you’re gorgeous, _mon petit chaton_ , so gorgeous and wonderful, you feel so good, fuck.”

He can feel it, again, the pull in his stomach, and Babe doesn’t know what to do with it. Everything hurts, but it’s also so good, and he’s scared and safe and being torn apart and held together all at once. 

Babe decides to just relax, move what parts he can in time with Eugene’s body, letting go completely under the weight, the pressure, the warmth and the safety. It’s not important. Nothing can get to him here, anyway.

It sneaks up on him. Just after Eugene kisses him, tells him in a trembling voice that he’s close, Babe pulling him closer because he wants to feel every second of it.

Then the feeling washes over him, bliss and hurt and it’s everything he’s ever felt, compacted into this one moment. His groan cuts off into a hitched breath and Eugene stills, says something Babe isn't capable of understanding, twitches his hips in a way that’s probably involuntary but surprises Babe enough he bites into Gene’s shoulder from the surprise of it. 

They end up in a shivering pile together, Babe blissfully unaware of everything except that he’s tired, and Eugene is lying on top of him. 

———

He’s not really sure of how much time has passed, or how much time continues to pass before he really becomes aware of it again, lost in a fog of comfort and security and soft pillows and soft skin. Babe might have fallen asleep at one point, he’s not sure, but when he starts remembering things again it’s beginning to get dark outside and he’s thirsty.

He lifts his head up from where it’s been laying on Gene’s chest, and looks around the room for a moment before meeting Eugene’s eyes. Gene’s smiling at Babe, running a thumb over their joined knuckles where they’re holding hands.

“Hey there,” Gene says, and he looks so soft Babe can’t help but smile back. “There you are. I almost thought I’d lost you."

Babe frowns. “Did I leave? I don’t remember going outside. Why did I go outside?” Eugene pinches his lips together like he’s trying not to laugh, which is mean, moving their joined hands to cup Babe’s cheek instead. He leans into the touch, still very confused.

“No, sweetheart, you didn’t go outside,” Gene says fondly, pulling him in to kiss his nose. “Your mind was what went for a walk. But you’re here now. Do you want some water?”

Babe just groans and nods, suddenly acutely aware that his throat is completely parched. He’s handed a bottle, one of the fancy ones with a built-in cooling system that Babe isn’t normally allowed to touch because Eugene brings them with him to the hospital. Apparently, you lose three water bottles and suddenly you’re “no longer trusted with expensive things that I need for work, Heffron”.

Anyway. He actually moans at the first mouthful of water, draining the entire bottle despite the cold making his throat ache. He coughs a little when he’s done, Eugene rubbing his back with a fond smile before taking the bottle back out of his hands and disposing of it on the floor somewhere.

Babe snuggles back up into Eugene’s chest, Gene fruitlessly trying to stop him with a nudge of his shoulder.

“No, Babe, you have to eat something,” he says gently, and Babe makes a non-complying sound.

“Don’t want to eat. Want snuggle.” 

“No, you want to eat something. Come on, it’s just a sandwich, then you can put us however you want and I'll let you snuggle for the rest of the night, okay?” 

He tries to whine his way out of it, he really does, but Eugene seems to not be vulnerable to Babe’s antics at the moment, because he doesn’t relent until Babe has nibbled his way through a sandwich he vaguely remembers having made earlier that morning. 

It makes him smile, despite himself, and Babe has to admit he feels a lot better after getting some food in him and being able to cuddle up to Eugene without a single worry in the world. At some point Gene must have cleaned them both up, because he’s somehow in pyjamas and thankfully not-sticky, so he’s free to doze all he wants while Gene watches whatever documentary it is he’s put on while Babe was out of it.

“What?” Eugene asks at one point, when Babe has just handed him the napkin his sandwich came in to dispose of, catching sight of his smile. Babe lets it widen, pressing a kiss into Eugene’s cheek.

“You’re so good at this,” he says, thoroughly enjoying the way Eugene goes still uncertainly (but doesn’t blush, because of course Babe is the one stranded with all the blushing in this— whatever it is they have.) “You’re so good at taking care of me. I don’t get how you do it.”

“Not hard,” Gene mumbles, hugging a still-beaming Babe closer to him. At least his cheeks have the decency to feel warmer than normal against Babe’s forehead. “I just do what I need to to make sure you’re… Safe. Good.”

“And you’re perfect at it, Gene,” Babe says, nuzzling into his neck with a happy sigh, feeling his tiredness start to wash over him. He can’t imagine anything better than falling asleep here, head on Eugene’s shoulder and surrounded by all this safety, comfort, warmth. “I never felt as safe as I do with you.”

He makes himself comfortable, yawns deep enough to make his whole body tremble, a hand on his back stroking him through it. 

“Never want to be anywhere else than here, Gene,” he mutters out, feeling himself start to go to sleep. “Always happy with you.”

A kiss, so tender it makes Babe smile again, is pressed to his hairline. 

“Me too, _chérie,_ ” Eugene says, and Babe falls asleep. “Never happier than with you.”

**Author's Note:**

> CONTENT WARNINGS:
> 
> \- Heavy Dom/Sub dynamics. Safe, sane, consensual. Pre-negotiation happens (tho not on-screen) and aftercare happens (on-screen).  
>  \- Mention of a closeted past, hints at homophobic experiences in the past. Not a focus point, not delved deeply into.  
>  \- 90% of this is sex. I've stopped caring.  
>  \- Mentions of bad, but not dub- or noncon sexual experiences.  
>  \- Hints at breathplay. No actual breathplay, but hints at the dominance aspect of a hand on the throat.
> 
> Think that's it, but as always, let me know if I missed anything.
> 
> * * *
> 
> Author's note: And so the saga of the two kinky boys with an allergy for Defining The Relationship continues.
> 
> I promise there is a Talk coming sometime in the future, but not quite yet. I'm having fun playing the game of "How close can these dipshits get to saying 'I love you' without actually saying it?"
> 
> [ Come say hi on tumblr! I'm not lying in the description -- I really am always happy to hear from you. ](watchmenning.tumblr.com)
> 
> <3 <3 <3
> 
> edit: also at one point after this babe takes his duvet on a date around the apartment to apologise for thinking mean thoughts at it. eugene is banished to the balcony because he can't stop laughing as babe has half an apologetic argument with his bedclothes on the sofa while watching romcoms.


End file.
